“I remember,” I said quietly.
Bharata seemed content to continue rambling. “I hope we return in time for coronation. It will be a splendid occasion.”
“What do you want to do, when Rama becomes the king?” I asked.
Bharata shrugged. “Whatever duties he feels I’ll be best suited for. I suppose I could become an advisor on his Mantri Parishad. But he will not have much need for help.”
“I suppose not,” I murmured. I could not tell if this was a manipulation or Bharata’s true feelings. Either way, it saddened me to hear that Bharata had given up on that ambition he had confessed to me on a different trip to Kekaya, of being best at something, of being a good raja. Bharata too had become unfamiliar to me, more Rama’s brother and less my child.
With every passing day, my heart drummed a stronger rhythm against my ribs. Time is running out. Time is running out. Above us, the moon grew fatter and fatter, until only a sliver remained darkened, and the next morning the city of Kekaya came into view.
A breathless Yudhajit met us at the gates.
“Not a moment too soon,” he said. He grabbed my hand and pulled me through the palace as though we were children. Bharata followed.
“Is he truly that poorly?” I gasped out, tripping on legs gone numb. He strode on without answering, guiding us through twisting corridors until we arrived at a plain wooden door.
Raja Ashwapati lay in a small bedchamber, propped up on several pillows. His face was ashen, his whole frame diminished. Ashvin stood at his bedside. He looked up at our appearance and gave me a tiny smile.
“Kaikeyi is here, Father,” he said in a low voice.
“Kaikeyi?” My father’s lips barely moved when he spoke. His voice was a whisper, a mere remnant of his grand courtroom manner. I almost pitied him.
“I am here, Father.” I stepped into the dim room and approached his bedside, my son and Yudhajit close behind. “It has been a long time.”
“Yes, yes.” His hand lifted and he limply motioned me closer. I leaned in to hear him.
“You were a good daughter,” he rasped out. “You performed your duty to your kingdom well, and soon our blood will sit on the throne of Kosala. I am proud of you, Kaikeyi.”
“Thank you, Father.” His praise confused me. Although I did not want it, although I told myself I did not care what he thought, his words also warmed me. Instinct brought me to the Binding Plane, where I discovered a thicker-than-expected lustrous white bond connecting us, somehow bright against the dull surroundings. I felt ashamed at the bloom of joy under my skin.
“How are you?” I asked foolishly, wishing to change the subject.
“Dying.” He produced a coughing laugh. “Soon, I hope.”
I bowed my head.
“It is my time and I am ready. Do not be alarmed. But, Kaikeyi, I need to tell you something.” His hand found my arm, and he gripped it with all his feeble strength.
I looked up at Yudhajit, but he appeared equally bewildered.
“Your mother,” he whispered, and I pulled back in alarm. How did he know? I would not apologize for seeing her, not even to comfort a dying man. He mouthed something else, but from my distance I could not hear it. I sat on the edge of his bed and gingerly put my ear next to his mouth. “It was my fault.”
I must have misheard. But no: “My fault,” he repeated.
I studied his face, the way the skin appeared paper-thin and worn dry. His eyes were damp. I had never seen him cry—could barely even conceive of it—but here I was. Guilt had done this. For a moment I remained there, paralyzed. But perhaps I could ease his pain. I lowered my lips to his ear. “She is alive, and happy. I have seen her.”
He turned his head slightly toward me. “You have?”
“Yes.” I pushed the hint of happiness through our bond, then looked up at the others. My eyes alighted on Bharata. “This is your grandson,” I said, beckoning him forward. “My son.”
Bharata brought his hands together and bowed his head. “It is an honor to meet you.”
Ashwapati’s eyes lit up, a faint gleam of what he had once been briefly visible. “He is a fine boy.”
“Yes, he is.” Pride and grief squeezed my chest.
“Take my hand, child,” my father instructed Bharata. Bharata took the wizened hand in both of his own.
My father sighed and went limp against his bed. Alarmed, I looked around, but Ashvin shook his head. “He has lapsed into sleep again. This happens more and more frequently.” He stepped around me and placed two fingers under my father’s chin. “His pulse grows weaker.”